Chapter 40 #2
Just the same, it’s great to see her. She’s got this biting, brutal sense of humor which I really enjoy. Before, it felt like she was weaponizing it on me—because she was. But now, after our talk, it feels less personal and more just who she is.
And I really like that fire in her.
Vaughn must guess that I’m a little annoyed at her being here—or at least, my libido is.
Because after dinner, he leads me outside, half-rips my dress off, and then chases me through the graveyard before bending me over the front steps of a faded, crumbling mausoleum and fucking the hell out of me from behind with both of his hands around my throat until I come, choking his name.
It’s dark when I wake up later, alone in his bed. My brow furrows as sleep fades and I try to figure out why I’m awake.
I glance at the bed next to me, reaching over to feel the sheets are cold. I fell asleep snuggled up to him earlier. But even as I was fading out, I had a feeling he’d keep his streak going by finding another bed somewhere. That seems to be exactly what happened.
I sigh heavily as I drop my head back to the pillow. Maybe I’m awake because I miss him.
I miss the man I’ve became so wrapped up with that I’m not sure anymore where I stop and he starts.
I close my eyes and try to regulate my breathing to fade back to sleep. But then I hear it.
Was that…yelling?
I sit upright in bed, my brows knitting. My heart jumps when I hear it again—faint, distant, muffled. Definitely yelling, or an argument.
I slip from the bed and then pull on some shorts and a hoodie. At the door to the bedroom I pause, trembling when I hear the faraway voice again. A chill skitters up my spine as I remember walking out onto the landing in Vaughn’s penthouse and seeing him arguing with himself.
…holding a knife to his own throat.
Fear ignites in my chest as I walk down the hallway and then up the stairs to the observatory. I think that's where the sound is coming from.
“Vaughn?” I say quietly as I step inside. I frown when I realize there’s no one in there. I know I just heard yelling—
“—what you have to do!”
I gasp, whirling at the muffled sound of a barked voice. Nobody there, just the bookshelves lining the wall next to the door, opposite the windows that look out over the mountains and forest.
What the hell?
I step closer, running my hands over the dusty books in the ancient wooden cases. Suddenly, my fingers catch an edge.
I stiffen, peering at the raised lip of wood where there shouldn’t be a seam. Then muffled yelling comes again.
Holy shit.
It’s coming from behind the shelves.
My pulse quickens as I slide my fingers over the edge of the bookcase, and my muscles tense as I pull back.
The bookcase swings open on hidden hinges, gliding easily across the floor. Behind it, a low, dark, brick hallway stretches out before making a sharp turn and descending into the shadows.
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
That was unmistakably Vaughn.
Then another voice rasps up from the darkness, crawling over my skin like spiders.
“Or whaaaaat…”
That was not Vaughn.
And yet, there's a familiarity to it that sends an icy ripple snaking through me.
I should just leave it, whatever it is. It could be a work thing for all I know. Maybe he’s just having a business argument with one of his people?
In the middle of the night? Down a secret passage?.
My mind starts replaying the visual of his freaked-out, faraway look, like he was a passenger in his own body as he held a knife to his jugular.
No. I’m not “just leaving” this at all.
I step through the doorway and then walk down the brick hallway, sliding my hand over the rough, warm stones next to me. When I get to a corner that starts to disappear into the shadows, I realize it’s actually a circular brick staircase, descending into the gloom.
The yells become muffled.
Keep going.
My hand stays firmly on the wall in the almost pitch darkness as I slowly descend the stairs.
Terror lurks in every scuff of my feet and lingers in every shadow that plays tricks with my mind.
The staircase winds down and down, until I’m sure I’ve gone past the second and first floors of the huge house and am going even deeper, into Hell itself.
“You’re weak! Pathetic! Can’t even distance yourself from one little distraction!”
A chill crawls down my spine.
It doesn’t sound like Vaughn. But I know I’ve heard that deep, rasping voice before.
But what the hell is that voice doing yelling at Vaughn at the bottom of some creepy-ass secret staircase behind a hidden bookcase door?
“You go near her again, and I will rip your fucking head off!”
That's Vaughn again. But the sheer violence in his tone does nothing to calm the racing of my heart.
The stairs even out to a brick hallway. The air feels heavier down here, and it’s strangely warm. Up ahead, faint flickering light outlines the edges of a closed door.
“You won’t,” the familiar-yet-not voice sneers with cold amusement from just beyond the closed door ahead. “Because we both know it’s POWER you value above all else. More than your brother, more than companionship. Certainly more than a little piece of tail!”
I flinch but keep moving toward the door, my pulse thudding in my veins and a dark, twisting sensation slithering through my center.
My hand wraps around the knob, my heartbeat screaming in my ears as I slowly push the door open, readying myself for whatever might greet me.
But nothing could possibly prepare me for this.
The room is all brick, with high, vaulted ceilings and a fire crackling in a fireplace on one side. There’s a sitting area with two couches, a makeshift kitchen with piping for a sink coming out of the wall plus a fridge, and a bed.
But none of that is what has my jaw hitting the floor.
Vaughn is shirtless, his chest heaving and his broad shoulders trembling. Blood trickles down his body from a myriad of horrible whip marks crisscrossing his muscled back.
The instrument of those marks—a leather riding crop glistening with blood—is in his own hand. His face is twisted demonically with rage, his eyes bulging and his jaw clenched as he brandishes the riding crop almost like it’s a gun.
But it’s the other person in the room—a much older, gray-haired man standing facing him—who actually has a gun wrapped in his fingers, his cold gaze and the barrel both trained lethally on Vaughn.
Everything freezes. Slowly, the older man turns, and when he sees me standing in the doorway, his lips curl wickedly.
“Ahh, so she arrives,” he murmurs.
The gun is suddenly pointing at me.
I gasp, going stock-still as the man with the dark look in his eyes and the gun in his hand smiles venomously at me.
“Won’t you come in, my dear.”
“No!” Vaughn roars when he sees me, his whole face going white. “No, Evelina! RUN!!”
The older man shakes his head. “I wouldn’t advise that,” he growls as he glances significantly at the gun in his hand.
My pulse skips as I turn to look at Vaughn. There's a visceral fear in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
“Get out, Evelina,” he chokes. “Please. Just go.”
“Oh, she’s not stupid enough to do that,” the older man smiles, chuckling.
“He won’t hurt you!” Vaughn roars. “I WON’T HURT YOU!”
“Vaughn—!” I scream. “Vaughn, who—”
“No one!” he blurts, his face haggard and lined as he turns to me. “Just go, princess. Please, before I do something terrible!!”
What?
“Vaughn, I—who—”
“Get OUT!” he roars.
Suddenly, he’s raising the riding crop and whirling to point it at the other man.
“Stop it!” he bellows. “Put the fucking gun down, Quentin!!” His lips curl as blood drips down his body. “Quentin, quit pointing that fucking gun at her!!”
A shudder wrenches through me as my eyes dart between them.
“Vaughn—” I choke. “Vaughn, who—”
“He’s not real, Evelina!” Vaughn’s face crumples. “He’s just in my head! He’s me, and if you get the fuck out now, I can stop him from hurting you!”
Horror washes over me.
“Vaughn,” I murmur, staring at him and then at the man holding a gun. “Vaughn, he’s—”
“He’s me, baby,” he chokes, dropping to his knees and shaking his head.
“Vaughn—”
“He’s not real! He just—”
“Yes he is,” I choke, paling as the man grins widely and levels the gun right at me. “Vaughn… I’m staring right at him.”